Wheelies, soil samples, living and dying.

 Long overdue summer report. It was busy. It was good. And the fear, addiction, and loathing of the words on the web help or hinder; I do not know which, but I must barf out this consumption that is life. As always the racing is the only road map I have to make sense of this journey. PPIR round one is the only Colorado Hill Climb Association course not on a real road. Rather it is a course in a field with technical challenge without the danger of cliffs, boulder fields, or trees. A rather advantageous course to my little  homebrew car. I left the new big bore bike at home in an effort to not feel obligated to chase the points championship in the bike class and perhaps grow my skill in the two too many wheeled cage. On the opening lap I opted to take it easy but in doing so I overcooked a corner, spun, and without reverse knew that I either cause a red flag or give the gas pedal a little stomp to jump the inner berm. I did a big boner wheely right in front of the cameras and landed on the corner marker flag bending my tie-rod. I battled all day for the overall fastest vehicle and noticed the tie-rod was bent only after the day was done. On race day I fell victim to thinking I had a 10 second advantage only to find out the ol veteran fast guy of course kept 11 seconds in his trick bag to beat me. I found out at the awards podium ceremony with my cheeky little fast qualifier medal in hand. I smiled. 

Next I raced a motocross/off road (Worx) race at my old home town local track 3.5 hrs north of my casa. Fun to use a starting gate. I got a good launch, coming into the first corner I see a young buck to my inside and one to my outside so I think it wise to not go all out for the holeshot. The young bucks collided in front of me and I hit the eject button. Before I am done rolling I start screaming at the young buck underneath me about how he is a fucking maniac and I have to go to work tomorrow. I re-mount and pass all the way back up to 2nd.  A month later and I finally know how Sonny Hooper felt in the Burt Renyolds classic movie Hooper. I need to learn how to slow down and make this magic last. 

Temple Canyon Hill Climb is the 2nd oldest Colorado Hill Climb on the schedule next to the Great Land's End Race. Oh I forgot to mention Land's End was cancelled this year thanks to fire crews being busy keeping our back yards and beautiful rocky mountains from burning. Broke my fucking heart to not get to race Land's End this year. Since Pikes Pike it has become my Hill Climb race of the year. Anyhoo The Temple Canyon Hill Climb is pretty sweet. I think of it as 3 different courses wrapped into four miles. I went to kick start the big bore hopped up TRX top end hill climb bike for the first practice run and my hip/groin pops and is angry. Apparently soias muscles and bursitis are worthy adversaries of Sonny Hooper. I literally couldn't lift my right foot back onto the foot peg without a whole body spasm jerk of teeth grinding grunt tear jerking wince every right hand turn. I qualify fastest on the bike with only my first run opting to save my tears for one race run, winning the motorcycle class barely. I felt good in the car but on my last race run I was putting in my perfect run when I missed out on a money finish, missing a shift on the very last corner. The gears grinded so bad I thought I threw a chain, rolling backwards out of the race line. I would find out later that I had fatally rounded my transmission gear dogs. Time for a Hayabusa engine build...

Last week I got a visit from an old friend who you might know if you go way back on this blog. He was the best man at my wedding. The partner in crime to so many high school good times. The guy who taught me how to shred at ninja level speed, hang dry-wall, Take a big road trip, handle a felony charge, use a paint sprayer, survive a car crash, file taxes, land a kick flip, start a family, and live life with a huge positive attitude. Over the summer he had been diagnosed with leukemia. A few hrs after visiting me and laughing it up, looking healthy as can be his wife found him non responsive on the floor. Game over. Two little kids left behind. Only 40 years. So it goes. Nobody gets out of here alive. It is not if but when so keep it wide open, keep it sunny side up, Don't let the bastards bring you down. Life is a precious task. Love it.

The new radical CRF450 big bore with the trick TRX head did not blow up in it's maiden race :)

Aftermath of the team race earlier this summer.

Aftermath of going over the bars on my bicycle. I swear that I am maturing as a responsible adult.

Off the race line a bit.

The spoils.

Responsible adulting. Yup, that's me. 

Me and the old Miller 330A/BP buzz box are learning to get along ok. The engine and trans mounts on the Coyote.

The old ugly "Yard Art" MX250 revival is looking a fair bit less ugly.

The Coyote is nearly near the nearly done part of a build where the last 10 percent takes 90 percent to finish. I found some pictures of ol Wells Coyote chassis 013 from it's previous adventures...

Torch passing

 My fire still burns but the flame has slowed in growing. The race urge persists, the drive still strong, yet the life of it is slowly leaving, the fuel that feeds the fire is pulled to a younger new growing flame that has fuel to grow. The flame from one gives to another. I understand now the generativity cycle. At least much more than ever before but I know that the more I learn the more I know not much.

That time of year again...

 

The good, The bad, And the ugly

 The Good: Hey, it's all good! As long as you don't watch tv, listen to news, or doom scroll. Life in Mack is good. I have to admit that despite the grind of it all, I really live the life I love and love the life I live and all that kumbyah hippy shit that has got me this far without loosing my marbles or at least all of them. On the righteous straight and narrow path of hot nasty dirty speed I have been able to somehow keep my nose to the grind stone. Ouch, sometimes i get sparks in my eye. But did manage to get some lead out my ass and hook up the distributor on the Coyote and feed the Holly double pumper some petrol. The sawed off header pipes did not disipoint and my dog was not the only one who piddled on the floor from excitement. Damn this capsule ought to be more fun than barrel full of well oiled midget monkeys doing keg stands of Jolt Cola on a marry-go round.

And to the bad: Not so bad but, well shitfuck. What did I expect slapping a four wheeler head onto a dirt bike engine with cam lobes the size of Dolly Parton's hoo-haas and gallon coffee can for a piston. I even filled up the radiators with green stuff I was so optimistic/naive/eager to start the beast... And the kicker stopped dead locked up.... eeeee, I should have measured the piston to valve clearance. So I did. It was nilch, zip, zero, nada.... 

I did what any self respecting honkey without money would do and I turned my drill press into a mill. And I cut, and I measured again, and I cut, and I measured again, and I cut, and.... I came to rational thought about how the piston's original valve pockets were not wide enough for the +2mm oversized valves, so I cut wider, and than again deeper. And just when I thought I might not have anymore piston left to cut I finally got hit in the head with the apple of reality. My valves were only hitting the piston after a revolution. I had the god damn good for nothing scum sucking TRX four wheeler cam sprocket which has two less teeth than the sweet familiar CRF two wheel cam sprocket. I really should have noticed. Life is learning. Hoping my valves are not bent. They seem to hold pressure fine. And hoping my compression ratio is above barometric pressure.  If things progress into combustion of holly rolling happiness than praise be I shall buy a new piston. Another brand new big bore expensive ass piston. And measure clearances. 

Which finally brings us to the ugly; my favorite. I was just minding my own business when Dylan the bloke who beat me in the CHCA motorcycle points championship once and made me a red plate of his number 1 to hang on my wall sent me a text with a link to a marketplace add. It read: Free Yard Art. Doh! I showed up and they were waiting for my on the curb, actually off of it into the street with the poor old bike loaded vertically onto a dolly like Hannibal Lector. They asked what I intended to do with and did not believe me one bit when I told them I was going to revive the 73 MX250. They had even taken the liberty to weld onto it it's very own angle iron center stand that was perfect for busting open my knuckles while I snapped off rusty bolts breaking it down. "As much as I can with as little as possible" - My life's motto it seems. I got it all down and amazingly the stock bore piston and cylinder look great. After breaking loose the magneto, it turnedover free and clean. I dont think I will even rebuild the conn rod but the left side crank seal surface is not happy. Might have to do what I did on the 76 YZ125 last winter. This one might even be something I have to break my crusty patina pervert habits with and powder coat the frame, get one of those Indian repop tanks, and make all purdy and shit... we will see. I better source a new ignition...

emptied my box of band-aids.

I dont know, that's a whole lot of pretty beautiful crusty priceless patina there...

I only had to drill 5 of the 3 bolt heads. Math equations aside I have always wanted a proper pre 74 vintage class racer. Lets go!

Current Events

 

Preparing for 2026; Preparation H

 Hill climb preparations that is.

I also do discount plumbing. Plumbed the radiator form the ol Pontiac Grand Prix stockcar onto the side of the Coyote like some colostomy bag appendage. It might not make Collin Chapman approve but as Johny Cash said: " It didn't cost me a dime". Hopefully it does not end up burning my face like a scalded boiled potato at an Irish potluck. Everybody river dance! Hey, if it was good enough to cool the big ol Pontiac with the same engine I am hoping that the fans will make it happen even if direct air flow is about as good as trying to light a fart through gor-tex trousers. Now all I need is some sheet metal to enclose the side pod and create some ducting or at least make it look like a proper side pod. But I'll be damned if I am going to spend $150 on a sheet of aluminum. Thanks Chief peder-ass! Hoping somebody will donate some ol road signs so I don't have to skin my ol camper's siding. State of the union... help!

Onto things more within my control, with two wheels and parts I know how to harvest from trash bins;

The Honda I was given last year in trade for some suspension work. The joke was: I bet that will be your next race bike. Sure, why not. I need another Honda CRF450. This one will make 6 and that is half way to a dozen. I think I posted a picture on here last year of me draining the rusty rain water from the crank case. Laying around in my stash pile I had an old Racers Edge ported head with epoxied port floors that came off a TRX450 four wheel that raced pikes peak. As far as I could tell the only difference from a CRF head was the giant thermostat housing so I chopped that off and welded a normal spigot on. Cast aluminum left as many seeping little holes as my 16 yr old acne ridden poc face when I lived on gas station piza and Jolt cola. So JB weld did the finish work. The other big difference is the intake is a straight shot center port making the carburetor and rear shock share the same air space. My first plan was to benefit from the straight flowing intake tract by removing the rear shock and welding up a sub-frame to accommodate twin shocks. Old school and cool. But I am lazy so for now I just made an intake manifold to turn the carb to the side and utilize the stock air box. Hoping to at least try to rig up a proper center mount eventually if nothing else for dyno testing...

In another amazing feat of cheap skate zip zero nada I fit up a homebrew exhaust system utilizing the stainless steal oversize header Gary made me along with some of his beautiful titanium for the mid pipe and to trifecta the metallurgy an old school aluminum super trap I have been hoarding for over 15 years.

First time I have ever ground the valve guide flush with the inside of the port. Just the intakes. Using my favorite seat grinder on this head. Notice the epoxy not only in the intake ports but also blocking the coolant passages near the intake...

But I did give the exhaust guides some Tommy Lesortor weight watcher treatment because we all know thin is in.

Back cutting the valve face.

My math only works out with correct ratio of cheap and fancy beer. The PVC spacer goes inside the intake manifold to match carb to intake port size.

This required taper boing the inside diameter. I only hope the pvc will not melt when playing with gasoline...

Fits better than OJ's glove. Life in Mack is good. At least at the motorbike shop. Peace.

I went racing!!!

I decided on Thursday to go racing on Saturday. Actually my better half decided. Something about my attitude needing some improvement. This time of year can get that way for me. Winters can seem long and lonesome without my racing but let me not forget to enjoy the here and now. Yesterday is for fond memories to carry in my pocket. Tomorrow will be here and gone before I know it; Make the most out of the present moment is my goal. But expectations are often far from realities. I have been lying to myself for the past few years thinking that I can still throw a leg over my bike and be the racer I was ten or fifteen years ago. But I know that most of racing is mental. Most of it. The memories of the Wickenberg race are fond. Also known as the Mile Marker, The Duel in the Desert, and now the Outlaw Endure. "The toughest race in the west". Once I finished 3rd overall behind Destry Abbot and Max Gerston. I have finished in the top ten several times. I once got gang banged by a choa cactus and ate shit leaving Mick's Go pro in the trail only to DNF shortly succumbing to wounds from the cactus and the crash. Look up Newbold Go Pro snaps off on youtube. It has been ten years since I raced this usually fast and flowy patch of desert. I made the 9 hr drive and took some pictures along the way checking the pulse of America along the way. The Navajo Nation has always made me feel strongly of what being an American. Now more than ever. The old native lady picking up trash along the road side. The cracker critter crossing at "Forrest Gump Hill" taking selfies like life depended on it. The Graffiti is real. The windshield time was nice. For pre race dinner I had some spam, a can of black beans, and bread. I watched bikes in the pits for an hour and a half before I saw a four stroke. Times have changed. But my choice in bike has not. I wondered about my choice. But I was excited to race the ol Elvira for her first ever race. The 2006 CRF450X was a bike I built for the 2007 Baja 1000 but due to a series of unfortunate events (ask me for the whole story at the campfire) the bike never raced. Two years ago the owner sold me the bike for cheap. Poor Elvira had been sitting out in snow banks for several years and she needed nursed back to health. I about have her ironed out. What better first race for the big ol desert racer than one of my favorite old races. But things have changed with "Enduro" racing. All the two strokes, The riders meeting laid strong words on cut off times for the 4 tests, and it was 90 miles. The first test was 11 miles. Fun virgin singletrack. The only bike to pass me all day was Joe Wasson and it was awesome! I finished the test out of breath but having fun. Then I looked down to see all my transmission oil gone from a huge hole in my clutch cover. Luckily I found some quick aluminum and a qrt of oil. Test 2 was 20+ miles. It was not only long but very technical. Tight rocky washes with aluminum eating ledges, waterfalls, boulder gardens, and giant loose rock hill climbs. I finished without major mistakes and some oil left in transmission. I ate my snacks and on the 7 mile transfer to the next test my shoulders/neck became angry. It was at this point that I knew I needed to just survive if I hoped to finish. Test 3 seemed to last an eternity. I was in excruciating pain on the rocky uphills but I kept forward momentum passing downed, and limping bikes all the way. The 4th and final test was only 9 miles so after the transfer I found some shade and lay my head on a rock and tried to re-charge. I gave it everything I had and finished strong. Good enough for 20th overall, and 11th AA out of 324 bikes. almost 6 hrs to do 90 miles! The old fast and flowy Arizona race is now slow grinding Hard-Enduro. Times are what they are. The beer was good and I went to bed in the back of my van early, sleeping like a dead tree trucker after a 5 day benny binge. On the drive home I was a bit dreary of my results but after some philosophical thought I realized that results should become less important to my comprehension of fun while racing, at least as I age. There is a formula in the numbers somewhere with age. I was once fast. I was once young. I was for sure the only AA rider on a four stoke and a 20 year old one at that so maybe that is a fond memory I will find in my back pocket some day.

Things are and will be whatever we make them to be.

PEACE.